


Moonless

by orphan_account



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Love Never Dies - Fandom, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, I suck at this, Romance, Sexual Content, Why Did I Write This?, not super detailed though guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2851670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tormented by her choice, Christine Daae returns to the Opera Populaire to search for Erik and swear her love to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonless

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at an adult-themed story. Please, be gentle. I know it's horribly awkward.
> 
> Based off the song 'Beneath a Moonless Sky' from Love Never Dies. I may dislike the sequel itself, but the musical is fantastic, and I just wanted an excuse to try out writing in this style, okay?

A biting wind swept over the hunched, thin frame of Christine Daaé, sending a chill straight to her bones. The former chorus girl shivered, wrapping her heavy brown cloak tighter around her body. Snowflakes fell in flurries around her, settling in her brown curls and catching in her dark eyelashes, but she remained motionless, staring at the empty shell of the theater that had once been her home.

Why was she here? She didn’t know. She had, over the past few months, sustained some kind of wild, desperate belief that the Phantom of the Opera still lived. Often when she was alone, she would dare to imagine that he had not been found by the mob, that he had escaped. The idea both terrified and fascinated her.

But now, she was here. This was her last chance to turn back. Her fiancé, the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, was asleep in their house, ready for their marriage the next day. If she went back now, he’d never discover that she had left, and she would marry him. She would live a life safe, never knowing if _he_ had lived or died.

Pale sea-green eyes studied the dark opera house, and with a deep breath, Christine took a tiny step forward. Her exhale was shaky, breath coming from white lips and forming a cloud that dissipated in the dark sky. That first step gave her the courage to go on, her boots crunching in the snow as she approached the doors.

She entered the decrepit building with trepidation, her footsteps echoing strangely off the interior walls. Flinching at the sound, she tried to tread with lighter step, uncomfortable with the thought of _him_ hearing her.

Christine made her way quietly through the theater, following the familiar halls to her old dressing room. The passageway behind the mirror was the only way she knew to the Phantom’s lair, and that was probably her best shot at getting down there.

When she came to the dressing room, the now-dirty and cracked mirror was partially pulled away from the wall, leaving the dark corridor behind it easily accessible. Christine stared into the darkness, all her former worries rushing back. What if he wasn’t there? What if he’d left – or worse? What if he didn’t love her anymore?

Christine took another deep, shaky breath, knotting her hands in the fabric of her cloak. She had made this decision, and she was determined to follow through with it.

The walk down to the lake seemed to take an eternity, and not even the candles were lit. She was in complete darkness. But she pushed away her misgivings, telling herself over and over again as she walked that it would be fine – that if he wasn’t there, she would go back to Raoul and forget it all. And if he was there, well… she wasn’t going to let herself think that far. There was no telling how he would react to her presence.

The boat was pulled up on the bank when Christine arrived at the lake. She didn’t know what to make of that, but she was grateful, if nothing else. She climbed carefully into the boat and lifted the heavy pole with a barely audible grunt. Awkwardly, she managed to push the boat away from the shore, and it drifted out onto the water.

When she made it to the opposite shore, her arms ached and her heart was thumping loudly. She set the pole down beside the boat and stepped out, lifting her skirts slightly so as not to step on them.

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark after being immersed in it for so long, and what she could see of the cave was the same as she’d remembered, but for one thing – it was empty. She choked back a sob, turning in a circle. There was no sign of him anywhere.

“Christine?”

Christine whirled around at the sound of the broken whisper. In the gloom she could make out a dark silhouette standing behind her, a tall figure with black, haunted eyes and a white half-mask that gleamed faintly.

A tear slipped down her face, and she was silent. It was _him._

“What new torture is this?” he rasped, so quiet she could barely hear him. He took a stumbling step forward and continued, “Is this my punishment? To see my angel at last, but here, in Hell… it cannot be real. Christine is gone.”

Christine approached him slowly. “I’m real,” she breathed, tentatively holding her hand out to him. “I am real.”

The Phantom hesitated, then lightly reached out and brushed his fingers over hers, as though confirming her statement. The contact sent a spark through her, and she shivered involuntarily. Immediately he pulled away, straightening and looking down at her.

“You should not have come here,” he said. That was the voice she knew, the voice she remembered so well.

Christine stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ that you should be home with your husband, _Vicomtesse,_ ” he snarled, spitting out the title like it was venom.

“Raoul is not my husband,” she protested. “Not until tomorrow.”

As soon as those words left her lips, she regretted them. The Phantom narrowed his eyes. “Oh, so congratulations are in order, then,” he mocked. “Is that why you are here? Have you come to torment me, to gloat about your wedding and revel in my sorrow?”

Christine stared at him, wide-eyed. “Of course not,” she said. “I am here because I –” She stopped abruptly, fisting her hands in her cloak.

“Because you what?” he asked roughly.

She lifted her chin. “Because I love you.”

There was a short silence. Then the Phantom gave a hollow laugh. “Do not tempt me with your lies, Christine. My love for you runs too deep. I might just begin to believe you, and then where will we be?”

“Angel, I love you,” Christine repeated, touching his arm briefly.

He was tense, ready to run. “I am warning you, Christine. Do not –”

“I love you,” she said.

In a flash, he flung his mask away, and even in the dark she could imagine his face as clear as day. “Do you love _this,_ Christine?!” he cried madly, seizing her by the shoulders. “Do you love this monster?”

“Yes,” Christine said, the word little more than a gasp. “ _I love you_.”

Slowly, his grip loosened, until his hands merely rested on her shoulders. “You love me,” he murmured, and his tone was one of wonder.

“Yes, my Angel.” She smiled.

“… Erik,” he said painfully. “My name is Erik.”

Christine considered this. “Erik,” she said softly. The name felt wonderful and forbidden on her tongue.

Without warning, Erik leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss, pressing her closer with a hand on her lower back. The pressure of his mouth on hers set her heart pounding at a wild rhythm. She reached up to cup his face with both hands, palms touching both smooth and marred skin alike.

“Christine,” Erik gasped as he broke the kiss, his voice trembling. He placed his free hand over hers, fingers covering both her hand and his deformity, just as he had done the first time they kissed long ago.

Christine kissed him again, and both his hands now settled on the curve of her waist. His kiss and his touch were making her whole body warm – too warm – and she forced herself to draw back so she could remove her heavy cloak. He did not release her as she fumbled with the clasp, but stared at her with eyes darker than the night itself, waiting impatiently for her to finish.

Her cloak was barely even off her shoulders before Erik had pulled her flush against him once more, sending a delicious tingle coursing through her. He pressed hot kisses along her cheek, jaw, and neck, making her sigh. Desire clouded her thoughts and made her pulse race as his mouth moved lower, brushing her exposed collarbone, then traveling back up the column of her throat to claim her lips once more. She could barely even see his silhouette, but there was something exhilarating about the darkness that surrounded them, limiting them to senses other than sight.

Erik’s tongue touched her lower lip, and she parted her lips, allowing him entrance. He kissed her more passionately, his fingers clasping her waist tightly as he explored her mouth. She whimpered, then instantly wished she hadn’t, embarrassed at the effect he was having on her. Maybe he hadn’t heard it.

To her surprise, he answered her whimper with a low growl of his own, his mouth still fitted to hers as he ran his hands up her sides and around to the spot between her shoulder blades. As she felt his fingers start to unbutton her dress, she pulled back, her face flushed. “Erik –”

“Hush, Christine,” he whispered, touching her cheek softly. He turned her so she faced away from him and swept her hair over her shoulder, then began to undo the tiny buttons, all the while kissing the back of her neck. She pressed her lips together, fighting back a sigh of pleasure as her desire grew more intense.

Christine felt him slide the dress a little down her shoulders after he finished unbuttoning it, as though he were going to remove it completely. He left it there, though, and began to kiss and even lick the spot where her neck met her shoulder. She gasped out his name as his hands moved around to press low against her stomach, in the very spot where she could feel a flame burning.

Erik grasped her hips and spun her back around, and his mouth descended on hers again as though he couldn’t bear to be away from the taste of her lips for too long. He wasted no time in slipping his tongue inside her mouth, and she found herself hesitantly touching her own tongue to his, wondering how he would react.

The result was immediate. He groaned and held her tighter, which encouraged her. She dared to suck his tongue just slightly, which made his body jerk against hers, and she became suddenly aware of the evidence of his arousal pressing against her hip.

Erik seemed to become aware of it at the same moment and drew back, eyes wide in the dark. “Christine, I love you,” he said hoarsely. “But do you want… this?”

Christine’s response was a kiss, intense and passionate, conveying what her words could not. He jolted again when she ran her tongue over his lips, and he welcomed it into his mouth, his hands roaming her sides.

She was on fire now, burning with desire. She _needed_ him – she drank in the sensation of him like he was water and she had not drunk for days. It was too much and not enough, and all she wanted was more.

Then they were removing what remained of each other’s clothes, and he was stumbling forward, practically lifting her off the ground as he kissed her. The backs of Christine’s legs hit something hard, and she fell backwards onto what felt like satin sheets, Erik landing squarely on top of her.

“ _Christine,_ ” Erik groaned, her name a prayer on his lips. His mouth left hers to move down her throat, kissing and even gently biting the soft flesh. He dragged his tongue along her collarbone, kissing the hollow of her throat, and she was conscious of his naked form pressing into hers.

He shifted off her then, and grasped her waist so he could pull her up to the top of the bed. Her head landed on the pillows, and she moaned softly as she felt his warm fingers touch her stomach, her thighs, her breasts.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered reverently, making her blush. He trailed his fingers along her hipbone and down her thigh, gentle and slow, until he finally reached the place where she wanted him most.

When his fingertips grazed against her, she gasped, her hips arching off the bed involuntarily. She thought she heard him chuckle, and he carefully stroked her core, almost teasing with his feather-light touches.

“Erik, please,” Christine begged, trembling with desire. “Please, I need…”

Her Angel lowered himself over her obediently, placing a lingering kiss on her lips. “Christine, this may… well, I have heard that it may be painful for you,” he said quietly.

She smiled bravely against his lips, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I love you. It will be fine, I promise.” No matter what happened now, she could not – would not stop.

Erik held her gaze in the dark, his warm eyes speaking of his endless love as he gradually slipped into her. She let out a soft cry at the initial pain, but he stifled it with a kiss as he continued to push forward. When his hips rested against hers, he stopped and waited.

“Christine, are you all right?”

The pain was like nothing she’d ever felt, but it was dimming. Hesitantly, Christine leaned up to kiss him again, and that was all the answer he needed.

He began to move, slow and steady, and she bit her lip as pain flared again. But she was astonished to find that as he continued to slide in and out of her, the discomfort gave way to the same dizzying pleasure she had previously been feeling. Before long, she was lost in the throes of passion once again.

She lifted her hands and cupped his face, drawing him down into a deeper kiss. He surprised her by tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth, sending a rush of pleasure straight to her core. She could tell it was becoming increasingly more difficult for him to keep the slow pace he was at, but he didn’t want to hurt her. She loved him so much.

Christine lifted her hips to meet his next thrust, tightening her legs around his waist, and he groaned. She slid her hands into his hair and kissed him hard, kissed him breathless.

Erik began to thrust a little faster, his fingers digging into her hips as he returned her kiss. Their tongues met, exploring and tasting as he took her, cloaked under the dark of a moonless sky.

“Erik,” Christine moaned, pleading. “Erik, I need you to –”

He pushed into her harder, and her back arched, pressing her bare chest against his. He dipped his head to kiss her skin, his mouth and tongue tracing the curves of her breasts, and she cried out in pleasure, the coil of heat in her core winding tighter and tighter. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.

She was clinging to him now, fingers buried desperately in his hair, mouth open in a silent gasp as he lavished attention on her breasts, leaving a path of fire behind his lips as he kissed back up her throat and jaw to fit his mouth to hers; and all the while his hips were still moving, thrusting hard into her now. Then she shifted, or perhaps he was the one who moved, because the angle had changed just slightly and _oh God –_

The world around Christine fell away as waves of ecstasy washed over her, blinding her and making her body quiver with the force of her orgasm. As her high slowly came down, she gasped out Erik’s name, gasped for breath, feeling his own groan of pleasure vibrate against her as his movements stilled and he came to his own climax. He slumped against her, his forehead brushing hers.

“I love you, Erik,” she whispered.

And when their lips touched, she knew she was complete.

~O~

Erik didn’t want to wake up. For the first time, he felt warm and safe in his bed. His arms were wrapped around something soft, something that felt suspiciously like…

His eyes opened to darkness, but he could just barely make out the pale figure in his arms. It was Christine.

“Christine,” he breathed, softly so he wouldn’t wake her. Memories of their night together came back in flashes: Christine telling him she loved him, their fevered kisses, him pushing her down onto the bed and –

Erik squeezed his eyes shut, shame flooding him. She was engaged to the Vicomte, for God’s sake! And he had violated her, on the night before her wedding, no less. How could he have let himself, a monster, do this to such a perfect angel?

Tormented by his thoughts, he looked down at her. She was sleeping peacefully, her chocolate curls spread out like a halo around her. One of her pale hands rested on his chest, the other tucked against her neck, and her cheek was against his shoulder. She was so beautiful.

She didn’t belong here, in the darkness. She belonged in the world of light.

His heart was breaking all over again.

 _You can’t just leave her,_ it was crying. _You love her._

Erik gritted his teeth in anguish, his vision hazy as he carefully slid his arm out from under her. He arranged the blankets around her body, trying not to wake her.

He rose, going to collect his clothes. Each movement he made was slow and stiff as his mind and his heart warred against each other, but he made it to the pile of fabric eventually. He dressed as quickly as possible, then gathered her clothes together and placed them at the foot of the bed.

Tears were streaming freely down his face as he placed his mask on his face and smoothed down his hair. He did nothing to stop them, even when they dripped down his chin and neck.

“ _Christine,_ ” Erik whispered, coming to stand by her side. He leaned down and brushed a kiss across her cheekbone, barely even touching her. “ _Goodbye, my Christine._ ”

Then he slipped away into the dark.


End file.
